DEDICATION
To the kids and the not-so-young who still think of themselves as damaged. You’re not. We’re not. We are FIERCE.
Chapter One
~July 2003~
“I’LL BE RIGHT BACK,” Jamie called through the closed bathroom door.
The doorknob rattled and her mother poked her head out. “What did you say?”
“I’m going out to grab some Gatorade.”
“Oh.” She ran a hand over her hair, still damp from the shower. “Give me a minute. A walk sounds nice.”
Seriously? Jamie offered what she hoped was a neutral look. “7-Eleven is a block away, and I have my phone. Okay?”
Her mom hesitated, glancing toward the sunlit window at the opposite end of the hotel room before returning her gaze to Jamie’s. “Fine. But be careful. And come straight back.”
“I will. See you later.”
As she ducked into the corridor, Jamie released a long breath. The act was sometimes difficult to maintain, especially on a night like tonight—the last night of the tournament. Only a few teams remained, mostly ones with early flights the following morning. Her own team had piled into SUVs and Subaru wagons shortly after their last game and started north up the five, headed back to the Bay Area. They would have been home tonight, too, if Jamie’s mom hadn’t scheduled a meeting at a gallery in San Diego the following morning.
She jogged down the hotel hallway, tying her sweatshirt around her waist as she went. At least her mother hadn’t noticed she was overdressed for a one-block stroll. Otherwise her plan might have failed before she even left the room.
As she bypassed the elevator and reached the stairwell door, she caught sight of a girl in a purple T-shirt and faded jeans in the vending alcove on the opposite side of the corridor. She looked familiar, and Jamie cycled through the past few days. Her T-shirt had a husky on it, so Washington. That was it—the Shoreline club. Jamie’s team had knocked the Seattle side out of contention the day before.
As if feeling the weight of her stare, the girl glanced up and smiled. “Hey.”
Jamie nodded at her. “Hey.”
“Apparently the ice machine’s out of ice.”
“There’s another one in the lobby. I can show you if you want.” She held the stairwell door open.
“Cool.” The girl followed her down the stairs. “I’m Emma.”
“Jamie. You’re from Seattle, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. NorCal, right?”
“Right.” They reached the first floor and Jamie led the way down a side hall. “Nice game yesterday.”
Emma made a face. “No, it wasn’t. You guys are really good, though.”
“Thanks. If it helps, you were the best player on your team.”
Emma smiled at her again, dimple flashing as she brushed back a few strands of honey-blonde hair that had escaped the omnipresent soccer girl ponytail. “I’m a center back. No one notices me usually.”
Jamie doubted that, but she let the comment slide.
The ground floor machine had plenty of ice, and Jamie lingered while the other girl filled her bucket.
“Why are you still here?” she asked over the sound of crashing ice.
“My dad has a work thing. What about you?”
“Same, only I’m with my mom.”
As they headed back to the lobby together, Jamie slowed her gait. After four days of round-the-clock teammate bonding, she’d been looking forward to a few hours to herself. Now somehow the idea of being alone wasn’t quite as tempting as it had been when she hatched her escape plan.
“I’m on my way out for a walk,” she said, watching Emma out of the corner of her eye. “Would you maybe, I don’t know, want to come with me?”
As soon as the words were out, she held her breath. Why had she even asked? It wasn’t like they could actually be friends. They might be in the same ODP region, but that didn’t mean their paths would ever cross again.
Emma stopped beside her in the lobby. “Where are you going?”
“There’s a park on the water about a mile from here. I thought I’d watch the sunset.”
“Alone?” Her brow creased adorably.
“Well, yeah. Although I told my mom I was going to 7-Eleven.” She wasn’t sure why she admitted that last part. Something about the other girl—her clear, gray-green eyes maybe, or her lips that turned up at the corners even when she wasn’t smiling—invited confidence. She seemed like someone Jamie would be friends with, assuming she didn’t live a thousand miles away.
Emma squinted toward the main entrance. “I guess I could use a walk. Let me go tell my dad.”
“Awesome. But, um, maybe don’t mention the park?”
She glanced back at Jamie, eyes still narrowed. “You’re not planning anything that would get us in trouble, right? No drugs, no spray paint, no secret gang affiliation?”
Jamie laughed at the image of herself as a tagger looking to leave her mark on the Del Mar country club scene. “Not a chance.”
Emma’s dimple flashed again. “In that case, give me a few minutes.”
As she waited, Jamie replayed the previous day’s game in her mind. If not for Emma’s steady play at back, the score would likely have been higher. As it was, Jamie’s team had only won by one—a goal set up by a corner kick she’d placed on a teammate’s head just outside the six. According to Pete, her club coach, Jamie was an assist magnet. While other players might have a nose for scoring, she preferred to work behind the scenes. Honestly, there was less pressure on the person who set up a scoring opportunity than on the player who found herself in front of the goal with only the keeper to beat.
After five minutes and no Emma, she started to wonder if the other girl had changed her mind. It was possible she only seemed nice and was actually one of those pretty, shallow girls who typically wouldn’t give someone who looked like her the time of day. Even Jamie’s high school, fairly chill as far as public schools went, had them in droves.
She was about to bail when Emma appeared in the lobby, a sweatshirt looped over her shoulders. “Sorry about that,” she said as she reached Jamie. “Ready?”
They set out along the main road, stopping briefly at the convenience store to pick up snacks and sports drinks. Then they resumed their trek, chatting about family, school, and soccer as they walked the short distance to the beach, the evening sun setting slowly in the distance. It was easy to talk to Emma, and soon Jamie knew quite a bit about her companion: She was about to start her senior year of high school; her parents were still married, though they had come close to divorce a year earlier; she had a thirteen-year-old brother who was more into skateboards and online gaming than organized sports; she was a member of the under-17 national team; and she had already verbally committed to play soccer at University of North Carolina.
“The national team and UNC?” Jamie asked. “I thought you said people don’t usually notice you.”
“Just wait. In another year your house will look like a college recruiting office exploded in it, too.”
“Even if it doesn’t, my sister and I are double legacy at Cal, and they have a decent women’s program.”
“Both of your parents went to Cal?”
“That’s where they met. They’ve been together forever, but they still act all sappy.” She shook her head, remembering how her mother had called and talked to her father for half an hour before bed every night since they’d arrived.
“You must be smart if you can get in there.”
“Smarter than I look, you mean?”
Emma laughed. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” Jamie smiled a little. She liked being responsible for the other girl’s laugh. “What do your parents do?”
&nb
sp; “My mom’s a pediatric nurse and my father is a peds surgeon. What about yours?”
“Dad’s a software engineer and Mom’s day job is in graphic design.”
“Day job?”
“She’s a textile artist, but it doesn’t pay as well as the tech industry.” She started describing her mother’s work, mostly dioramas and quilts made from reclaimed materials like vintage fabrics, books, photographs, and maps. Emma nodded and asked questions in the right places as if she was genuinely interested.
Hmm. Not a shallow, mean girl after all, apparently.
By the time they reached the park, the sun was barely hovering over the horizon. Jamie led the way along a bluff overlooking the ocean, and they sat down on a bench with their chips and Gatorade and watched in comfortable silence as the hazy, orange ball slipped over the horizon, bathing feathery clouds in pink and gold. Just as the sun disappeared into the sea, Jamie’s cell phone rang.
She read the name on the screen and hesitated. Then she hit the call button. “Hi, Mom.”
“Where are you? I thought you would be back by now.”
“Sorry. I ran into a friend from another team and we’re heading back to watch TV in her room. If that’s okay?”
There was silence at the other end. Meanwhile, at this end, Emma was frowning. Jamie could understand why the other girl might not want to lie for someone she had just met, but she couldn’t spend another night trapped in that room. She needed motion, fresh air, the company of someone who wasn’t watching her every move. Television wasn’t enough to distract her from the images waiting to flood her brain as soon as the lights went out. At home she could take a puff of weed and read herself to sleep by flashlight if she needed to, but here neither tactic was possible, not when they were sharing a room.
Probably she should have told her mother the truth from the start, but she hadn’t wanted her to worry any more than she already did. Besides, talking was overrated.
“Which friend?” her mother finally asked. “And what room will you be in?”
“Emma from Seattle, and she’s in room number...?”
“265.”
“265,” Jamie finished, flashing Emma a grateful smile.
“I guess that’ll be okay, then,” her mother said slowly. “But be back by eleven, and keep your phone on.”
“I will. See you later.” She hung up and turned down the ringer before tucking the phone back in her pocket. Whew. At least she had won herself a few hours of freedom.
“Did she believe you?” Emma asked.
“I don’t know. I haven’t exactly given her much reason to lately.”
“What do you mean? Why not?”
Jamie looked at her, noting how the fading light played across her face.
“What?” Emma asked, returning her gaze.
“Do you always ask people to share deep, dark secrets the night you meet them?”
She seemed to consider the question seriously. “No, I don’t think so. But I usually don’t run away with girls I meet at the ice machine, either.”
“Fair enough,” Jamie said, and shivered a little as the ocean breeze kicked up around them. The next thing she knew, Emma’s hands were at her waist undoing the knotted sleeves of her sweatshirt and tugging it out from under her. Jamie froze, swallowing hard at the intimate contact.
“Good thing I’m here, though,” Emma said lightly. “You clearly need someone to look after you.”
Jamie pulled her warm-up over her head, staring out at the darkening ocean as Emma slipped into her own sweatshirt. How had a girl she didn’t know figured out something that Jamie’s friends at home hadn’t yet glommed onto? It had been three months since spring break, and yet barely a day passed that she didn’t find herself sliding backward in some fashion. Every time she thought she was moving on, something happened to bring the fear flooding back. This weekend had been worse than most. Surf Cup was the first tournament she’d traveled to since Europe. And while Southern California and the Rhône-Alpes region of France had little in common, soccer tournaments were soccer tournaments and hotels were hotels.
“I think the sun has pretty much set,” Emma commented. “Do you want to head back?”
“Not really. Do you?”
“No.” Emma scooted closer. “As long as you block the wind, that is.”
“Deal.”
Jamie leaned into her, amazed that a stranger could make her feel so safe. Her initial impression of Emma had been spot on. She was a good person. Cute, too, but that didn’t seem nearly as important. Sighing, Jamie slid a little lower on the bench and watched waves crash on the beach below them.
#
Emma didn’t usually lie. After what had happened with her father, she detested dishonesty. But when the girl from Northern California invited her on a walk and then asked her not to let on where they were going, she knew there was more to the story. Maybe it was the shadows under her blue eyes, or the way her smile didn’t quite seem genuine, but Emma kept the girl’s secret as she told her father she was headed out on a snack run and then back to a friend’s room to watch a movie. Unlike Jamie’s mother, her dad didn’t ask for details. He only told her to take her phone and have a good time, barely even glancing up from his laptop.
Now as she and Jamie sat huddled together on the bench, the ocean crashing below them and color fading from the sky, she was glad she’d listened to her gut. Jamie was shivering beside her, but Emma was fairly certain it wasn’t from the cool air off the ocean. She didn’t stop to think that they didn’t really know each other. She didn’t stop to wonder if Jamie might not want to be touched. She simply slipped her arm through the other girl’s and tugged her closer, tightening her grip as Jamie glanced at her, startled.
“I’m cold,” she said, even though the temperature was warmer than what she was used to. “Is this okay?”
After a moment, she felt Jamie relax against her. “Yeah,” she said, and cleared her throat. “I mean, it’s the least I can do, after dragging you out here and whatnot.”
Emma hid a smile at the toughness Jamie was trying to project. She had noticed her during the game, of course. So had half the girls on her team. She had overheard the gay ones talking about her later: her baby dyke swagger, her light eyes and short, dark hair, her confident smile. Jamie was hot, no doubt about it. But that wasn’t why Emma had accepted her invitation to check out the sunset. Back at the hotel, Jamie had looked lost somehow, and Emma had a genetic predisposition to try to help anyone in pain.
They sat in silence for a while, watching light fade from the world until the ocean and the sky were almost the same color. Then Emma asked how Jamie had started playing soccer, and little by little, life returned to the other girl’s face and voice. She clearly loved the game as much as Emma did. She was describing her first AYSO experience when Emma’s phone buzzed.
“Sorry,” she said, checking the screen. She frowned a little and hit ignore. Why was he calling again? It wasn’t like five days away was even that long.
“Everything okay?” Jamie asked.
“Fine.”
“Guy troubles?” When Emma glanced at her quickly, she shrugged. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry.”
“No, that’s okay. I just didn’t think you would want to talk about that kind of thing.”
“Why not?” Jamie looked at her, head tilted in apparent confusion.
“Oh. No, I mean, it’s, you know…” And then she noticed Jamie’s grin. Finally, a real smile.
“You mean because I’m gay.”
“Are you? I never would have guessed.”
At that, Jamie let out a belly laugh that temporarily drowned out the sound of the ocean. Emma smiled back, pleased she had managed to coax such a response from someone who had seemed close to tears a few minutes before. My work here is done, she told herself, and then wondered at the pang the thought elicited.
“Do you want to talk about it, though?” Jamie asked. “My friends say I’m a pretty good listener.”
“But you’re so, I don’t know, conscientious.”
“How would you know? You just met me.”
“I watched you play yesterday,” Jamie said, her voice only half-teasing, “and now here you are looking after me, remember?”
“Maybe I haven’t met the right guy, then.”
“Or girl.”
Emma smiled a little. “Right.”
“How old are you, anyway?”
“I’ll be seventeen in October. You?”
“Sixteen. In January.”
“That’s like six months away,” Emma pointed out.
“I know, but fifteen sounds so young.”
“You don’t seem that young to me.”
“Thanks. I think.” Her eyes seemed to darken as she glanced out over the ocean.
Emma watched her profile for a moment, and then she leaned once again into Jamie’s side. She wasn’t usually this touchy-feely with someone she had just met, but the wind off the water really was chilly. “Tell me more kiddie soccer league stories. They’re my favorite.”
“You’re weird, you know that?” But there was a hint of a smile back in her voice.
The minutes slipped away and the night deepened around them as they talked about school, family, and, of course, soccer. Early on they discovered they had both been at the 1999 World Cup final match at the Rose Bowl, and each considered it one of the best days of her life. They were both also hoping to attend a World Cup match in the fall when the US hosted the tournament for the second time in a row, but neither was sure their soccer or school schedules would cooperate. Though Jamie didn’t mention a hope to someday play at the top level, Emma felt certain they were on the same page when it came to a future career in soccer as they talked coaches and team dynamics and protein diets, training schedules and game tape and the challenge of choosing between club and prep teams.
“You’re one of those girls who has a catchphrase, aren’t you?” Jamie asked, long after the sky had darkened and the nearly full moon had begun to rise through the filmy clouds overhead. “Let me guess—it has something to do with a positive attitude. Am I right?”
Training Ground Page 1